All Hallow's Eve
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Oneshot. The A-Team spends a quiet Halloween in the latest house Face has scammed them, putting some new twists on old traditions.


All Hallow's Eve

Over the centuries, October 31st had been known by several different names, the most common of course was Halloween, but to Templeton Peck it was synonymous with 'pain in the neck'. Ever since he'd joined the A-Team over 10 years ago, it had been a day of many things, but taking it easy was never one of them. It never seemed to matter where in the world they were, if they were on a mission, somehow certain traditions always crept in that he found himself being forced to go along with. Hannibal could spout off his typical philosophical jibber jabber about the whole thing, but even that failed to convince Face of much of anything after listening to it for so many years.

If they were out of America during the holiday, Murdock always had to mention the way other countries were celebrating and would it be possible for them to stop in there before the holiday was over and before they got back home? So far to date, they'd never made it to Mexico for the day, or Ireland, or Japan, or any place that really seemed to go all out for Halloween other than their homeland, more to the point, Hollywood, where much as the running gag was 'everyday was Halloween' there, everybody who was anybody and even a lot of somebodies who were nobodies by comparison, went all out to stick out like a sore thumb on the big night.

This year, Face had scammed them a mansion in a relatively secluded neighborhood, and for once it seemed they'd have a nice quiet holiday to themselves. But things had gone wrong since they moved in. Halloween in California, provided it wasn't raining, could be at temperatures in the mid 70s, rather pleasant compared to many other parts of the country they'd been in where it could be 50 degrees or even high 30s and snow, after a lifetime in the golden state, such conditions just struck the young man as obscene and vulgar. This year however, their little slice of Los Angeles had been hit by a cold snap, followed by high winds, which drove the outside temperature down to the low 50s in the evening, all of which revealed just how well insulated the house was _not_. There _was_ a furnace but even it could do little against the dozen or so places around the house where cold air just helped itself in through the cracks in the foundation. Ordinarily they'd be inclined to do something about it, but the condition of scamming the place had been when they left, everything would be as it originally was so nobody would know anybody had been there, so, much as it went against their nature, they left the cracks alone and let the cold wind blow. This left all of them digging in the linen closet for extra bedding so they didn't freeze during the night.

A couple days before Halloween, Murdock had revealed another one of his crazy ideas. He'd wanted to get a bunch of pumpkins and carve them, a _bunch_ of them, and put them all around his room so he'd have a one of a kind festive night light that could simultaneously heat the room. Hannibal had responded that he admired the captain's originality, but pointed out falling asleep in the middle of a dozen burning pumpkins was really _not_ the best idea. So they had compromised, Face had taken Murdock to a store that sold Halloween decorations and he'd bought a dozen boxes of purple and orange lights to string up around his room. Face hadn't seen it yet, but he would. All he knew was when he went down the hall in the middle of the night for a glass of water, he could see a patch of light sticking out in the crack under the captain's door.

Even though Hannibal had said no to a bedroom full of jack-o-lanterns, they'd still gotten four nice sized pumpkins from the local market to carve, all in the name of tradition. Even though Face wouldn't ordinarily touch them or their insides with a 10-foot pole, he'd gone along with it and carved a traditional triangle eyes and nose and jagged grinning mouth full of sharp teeth, then he'd looked over and saw Murdock, who had just finished carving a mean scowl on his pumpkin, then he was gluing costume jewelry and a mohawk onto it, and Face felt himself blinking repeatedly like he was losing his mind at what he saw. B.A. ordinarily wouldn't bother with it either, except he'd helped the kids at his daycare center make jack-o-lanterns to take home for the past few years, so he'd gotten plenty of experience, and he meticulously carved at his pumpkin for a whole half hour _after_ scooping out the seeds and innards, and he wouldn't let anybody see it until he was finished. To pass the time, Face leaned over the table to get a look at the one Hannibal had been working on, and saw the colonel had gone above and beyond tradition, he'd carved 'BOO' inside the carved outline of a bat. Finally B.A. announced his was finished and turned it around, revealing an exquisitely detailed tiger's face, every stripe, every whisker had been neatly etched into the pumpkin by slicing off the outer rind and revealing a lighter layer underneath which would light up with the candle in it. Face was in total awe, Murdock and Hannibal applauded the sergeant's talent.

No matter where they were for Halloween, there was one tradition Hannibal always insisted on. Face had never heard of it their first year together, and given Hannibal was many things, but superstitious was never really one of them, the whole thing left the lieutenant feeling very confused. He'd tried bringing it up with Murdock and B.A. over the years, but they didn't seem to know much more about it than he did, B.A. thought it was stupid but he went along with it anyway, Murdock was another story. As always, there was never any way to tell when he was just faking being crazy, and when he was really acting that way. But he seemed to dive into this old tradition with both feet, and when the time came, he took it as seriously, if not more, than Hannibal.

Halloween night when the sun went down and things really got dark and creepy, Hannibal had them build a fire, a big fire, never mattered where they were, what resources were on hand, or how they had to contain it, just build a big fire to burn most of the night. And when the fire was good and hot, he had them find large rocks, one for each of them, sometimes that was easier than others, but one way or another they always got four big rocks.

"This is an old Celtic tradition," Hannibal had explained the first time they'd done it, "everybody takes a rock, and they all make a different mark on theirs so we can tell whose is whose. Then we throw them into the fire, where they'll stay all night."

"How do you mark a rock and still see it after it's in the fire all night?" Face asked.

"Find a light colored rock, and mark it with something flammable," Murdock suggested, "you'll see the singe marks."

"Not a bad idea, Captain," Hannibal had responded.

"What kind of mark?" Face asked.

"Just something that we can distinguish which is which," Hannibal said.

"How about our initials?" Face asked.

"That'll work," Hannibal told him.

"Okay," Face said as they all picked up a rock and wrote on them with a magic marker, then covered the marking with a dab of lamp oil, "so we mark the rocks and throw them in the fire, and then what?"

Hannibal took the cigar out of his mouth and explained, "It was the belief of the Celts that whoever's rock stayed in the fire all night, would have good fortune for the next year. But anyone unfortunate enough to have their rock land out of the fire by the morning..." his voice lowered and a solemn look appeared in his eyes, "would be the victim of certain doom before the next Halloween."

That had caught Face off guard, and even though he didn't really believe in it, he swallowed hard and asked, "So why're we doing this? Wouldn't we be better off _not_ throwing them in and _not_ having any land outside?"

Hannibal smiled one of his trademark smiles that could always set the lieutenant on edge, and said, "First of all, it's a tradition, and I love tradition. Secondly, with the Army trying to catch us, seems to me we could use all the good luck we can get."

Face wasn't about to ask 'what if?', because he didn't want to risk jinxing it, even though he still didn't believe in it. But he gripped his rock hard and tried to gauge how far and how hard to throw it so it would stay in the fire where it belonged.

The moment of truth came and all four of them cast their rocks into the fire, then they went in to go to bed, though Face kept getting up during the night and sneaking over to the upstairs hall window to see if the fire was still burning and see if anything jumped out of it. In the morning, the fire was out but still smoldering, and all four rocks were in the center of the ashes, and Face could breathe again. 10 years later there was still no proof that it meant anything or that it actually worked, but in those 10 years they'd had a lot of run-ins with the Army and managed to get away every single time, usually unscathed, so while Face didn't really get it, he wasn't going to question it. Every year a few days before Halloween he'd gather up some stones of usable size and practice tossing them when nobody was looking, seeing if they bounced. It _still_ wasn't that he really believed in it, but why take chances?

Halloween came again, and this time the winds had been blowing hard all day and it was bone chillingly cold out in addition to just being dark and creepy. Hannibal actually seemed to revel in it all as they watched the fire grow. He looked to the night sky and told his men, "This is how the whole custom started. The seasons changed, days grew short, nights long, exceedingly long, the earth grew cold, the crops died, leaving everyone uncertain about their survival through the winter, and would the sun return, would it ever be spring again, would the crops grow again, _would_ life go on? Or would this be the year the sun disappeared forever and the whole world became a frozen grave? No wonder the Celtic people decided to try for all the good luck they could get."

Face had never really thought about it, to him Halloween had always been about costume parties and bobbing for apples and little kids trick-or-treating. Standing out there in the cold and dark, filling an arctic chill through his whole body, watching the dancing flames provide the only light and seeing the shadows they cast all around the pit, he tried to imagine life so long ago, how different it was, and how easy it would be for people to fear the summer's end and the onslaught of cold and darkness and uncertainty, and what was _out_ there in the dark, and so eagerly await the next spring, a whole whopping six months away, it made him wonder _how_ people held onto their sanity while they waited for the seasons to change again.

His thoughts were interrupted by B.A. coming up to him and jabbing him, "Here, Face, don't forget to mark your stone."

"Thanks, B.A.," Face turned to take the marker, then realized it was a lot smaller, and he looked down and saw that B.A. had slipped him a tube of superglue. Face looked at the larger man curiously, but the look on B.A.'s face told him all he needed to know. _No_ rocks would jump out of the fire tonight, and whatever good luck they may have gained each year from this tradition, would continue for another year. Face nodded in understanding and squeezed a big glob of glue onto the middle of the rock.

Everybody took their rocks and gathered around the fire, watching the flames dance high above the pit.

"Everybody ready?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah," they answered.

"Ready...throw!"

Everybody hurled their stones as hard as they could and watched as they all landed in the midst of the burning wood and leaves, there was a hiss, a sizzle, a crackle and the flames around the rocks grew higher for a few seconds, then died down.

"Good work," Hannibal said. They stood back and watched the fire for a few minutes, before it was finally decided it was too cold to stand around all night, and they headed inside.

Before they shut up the house for the night, Murdock put out his own offering to any spirits that might return from the grave and be looking for something to eat, a tray full of hamburgers that he'd spent an hour preparing after dinner. He'd announced to the rest of the Team his idea that after a couple thousand years of apples and nuts and the such, the ghosts would no doubt enjoy a tasty burger with all the trimmings. Everybody had concluded it was a safe bet _somebody_ would find them and they'd be gone by morning, and if not the spirits of the dead, the second most likely candidate was the local wildlife. Either way the rest of them were confident in the morning, Murdock would be lucky if the _tray_ was still on the porch.

By contrast to the dark and cold and wind outside, the house was warm and brightly lit, the poor insulation not withstanding, the ambiance was inviting, and it was very easy to cast aside all those ancient nagging thoughts and superstitions. Murdock heated up some apple cider, made popcorn on the stove, and they sat around the living room watching a marathon of old black and white monster movies on TV. Around 11, B.A. checked the jack-o-lanterns on the porch and the candles had gone out, and he was ready to call it a night. Closer to midnight, Hannibal also announced he was going to retire for the evening, leaving just Face and Murdock, who were also starting to get tired, but neither of them actually wanted to go to bed until after midnight. They sat on the couch and watched the horror movie currently on, through the night they'd seen Frankenstein's son and Dracula's daughter and the pod people, now they sat back and watched Boris Karloff as a resurrectionist who burked Bela Lugosi, then delivered him to a medical school for dissection.

Suddenly Face heard something, and he realized it was a clock chiming the hour. He turned to the pilot and asked, "Murdock, does this house have a grandfather clock?"

"Hmmmm," Murdock scratched the side of his face like a dog with fleas, and finally concluded, "Maybe."

They counted the chimes, 12 in all.

"Well, that's it," Murdock said as he reached for the remote and shut off the TV, "Halloween's over for another year."

"Halloween won't officially be over until the sun comes up tomorrow," Face replied as they got up and headed for the hall stairs, "and every drunken idiot has gone home to bed and passed out."

"And all the rocks are still in the fire pit, right, Face guy?" Murdock asked.

"Yep."

* * *

Face tried to go to sleep but instead he just spent half an hour tossing and turning in his bed. He tried to blame it on the mattress, but he'd slept fairly well on it the previous nights, and he knew it. Then he tried to blame it on all the junk food they'd eaten that night, Murdock brought out the worst in his eating habits, it was Halloween so naturally they had to have spiced cider, and soda pop, and candy, and apples, and a whole frying pan full of popcorn. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that wasn't the reason why either. As he flopped around in the bed, he thought back to everything that Hannibal had said about Halloween.

 _"It was the belief of the Celts that whoever's rock stayed in the fire all night, would have good fortune for the next year. But anyone unfortunate enough to have their rock land out of the fire by the morning..." his voice lowered and a solemn look appeared in his eyes, "would be the victim of certain doom before the next Halloween."_

 _"This is how the whole custom started. The seasons changed, days grew short, nights long, exceedingly long, the earth grew cold, the crops died, leaving everyone uncertain about their survival through the winter, and would the sun return, would it ever be spring again, would the crops grow again, would life go on? Or would this be the year the sun disappeared forever and the whole world became a frozen grave? No wonder the Celtic people decided to try for all the good luck they could get."_

And somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Face could almost hear the people who started the customs, so long ago, dancing around fires and chanting, sounded like a 60s B horror movie, at any other time it might be laughable, but laying there in the dark with the cold wind blowing through the cracks in the walls, it wasn't so funny all of a sudden. A few times when Face closed his eyes, sudden images came to him, cloaked and hooded figures gathering around the fires, knives sharpened, sacrificing a few lives so the rest may get through the year alive and well. Bodies of the dead wrapped in their burial shrouds, coming out of their tombs and returning to the homes they once frequented, accepting food offered as gifts to leave the people living there alone. The poor soul whose rock somehow jumped out of the fire during the night, waking up to the superstition of certain doom.

Finally he had enough, he threw back the covers, made his way in the dark towards the door, went out in the hall, where it was even colder, and looked for Murdock's room. He saw the colored lights poking through the crack under the door, and he made a beeline for it, and quietly knocked on the door, hoping Murdock was still awake.

"Who goes there?" a haughty voice on the other side of the door demanded.

"Murdock, it's me."

"Who is me?"

"Me is me!" Face told him. "Can I come in?"

There was a brief pause before Face heard a poor imitation of a basso voice responding, "Enter."

Face turned the knob and pushed the door open, and stopped in the entryway. Bright orange and purple lights were strung up all over the walls and made the whole room look like part of a Halloween kaleidoscope, it wasn't as bright as the house lights being on, but it was a pretty close second. It was enough illumination to see everything in the room, including the captain in his long pajamas who stood in the middle of the room.

"Hey Face, what brings you here?" he asked.

"Couldn't sleep, you mind if I stay with you tonight?" Face asked.

Murdock's face lit up like a jack-o-lantern, "Why sure, Faceman, I _love_ sleepovers!"

Not quite what Face had in mind but he responded, "Great." He looked over and saw that Murdock had his bed covered with a quilt, a bedspread, and two blankets. Well, they shouldn't be cold anyway. He got on one side of the queen sized bed, Murdock got on the other, the sheets were cold but Face knew in a couple minutes it wouldn't be so bad, he pulled the covers up to his neck and looked around at how the lights marked the walls.

"Nice decorating, Murdock."

"Thanks, Face, I wish they'd let me do my room at the VA like this, it would give a whole new meaning to the term light sleeping."

"Murdock."

"Hmmm?"

"You think there's any truth to all those old superstitions people used to have about Halloween? You know, that the dead come back to life and evil spirits running around and all that stuff?"

"Well," Murdock thought about it, "I've never personally seen one, at least I don't think I have, maybe I did and they just didn't tell me."

"Forget I asked," Face replied as he turned over on his side to face the wall, "Goodnight, Murdock."

"Goodnight, Face, Happy Halloween."

Face thought about it for a minute. Here in a warm bed in a comfortably lit room with his best friend for company, all those strange thoughts from earlier seemed to fade away again, all those sounds he'd imagined of weird chanting suddenly got muted, everything was quiet again and peaceful, calming even.

"Happy Halloween, Murdock," Face replied as he closed his eyes.


End file.
